


Staying in Doors

by Serazimei



Series: Perks of Beholding [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Animals, Enemies to Friends, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor, It/Its Pronouns For Michael | The Distortion (The Magnus Archives)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 07:54:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30035496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serazimei/pseuds/Serazimei
Summary: Jons pets hear of the stabby crime Michael has committed and decide to avenge their master. Jon is very confused when the Distortion comes whining at him. Apparently the cats have been messing with its doors.Alas, Jons reluctant friends list continues to grow.
Relationships: Michael "Mike" Crew & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Michael | The Distortion & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: Perks of Beholding [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2190480
Comments: 10
Kudos: 63





	1. Chapter 1

Jons animals were special. He would tell you that to your face, heaving praise upon praise over his darlings, if you'd so much as hinted at being interested in the topic. And sometimes even if you didn't. All of the archival staff could attest to that. But they were special in a way Jon didn't know/Know, yet.

Proximity was a funny thing. It could change a living being forever. People who stayed close to the powers either Became or died. And those who did neither more often than not had worse fates. Animals were much the same, although they were usually more careful to avoid the supernatural, favouring survival instinct over curiousity and being more attuned to what belonged to reality and what didn't.

The animals that flocked to Jon, however, were often seen in the temple of the Eye or rubbing up against its fledgling Avatar. They followed him into the supernatural and came back changed. This manifested mostly in a lack of fearfulness regarding the entities servants. Where before they would bolt at the first sign of something wrong they'd now go and investigate, always happy to have new morsels of information for their child and caretaker.

It also became first priority to rely information to each other, despite the mortal danger of a mouse running up to an owl to gossip, for example. Jon did not know that. He also didn't know that he was encouraging it with gifts and praise and pets. That his animal friends hungered after that smile and spark in his eyes, that little wave of euphoria that seeped into their skin if they just stood close enough to him in those moments. He fed them more than food now.

They just liked to hang out with him, too. Most of all the Captain. Him and several cats and crows made up the inner circle of Jons menagerie. He was often seen in the archives in one lap or another and he took up most of his evening hours lazing around in Jons office listening to him ramble. It was at one such late hour that he first heard the name Michael, as Jon described a servant of the Spiral, who had apparently stabbed Jon out of nowhere.

The Captain narrowed his eyes at the offhand mention, plotting revenge while Jon continued to think out loud, oblivious to the unofficial command he had just given.

~~~

There was surprisingly little to do now that they knew about where the Unknowing would take place. Jon had sent some of his more reliable animal friends out to confirm the information, which had earned him a scoff from Daisy and Basira, who had gone to look for themselves. Jon had been outraged that his four-legged and winged friends hadn't been deemed trustworthy enough, but puffed up with pride and smugness when the two came back with the same conclusion.

The Captain had done the same. He still wouldn't let himself be petted by Daisy, having let the charge in front of Mike Crews flat. And Jon probably enjoyed seeing her try to endear herself to him a bit too much. It was just nice to see someone else grovel without much luck. Usually it was him that did that.

Jon twirled one of his markers in his hand. He had been staring at a statement for about half an hour now, marking things here and there. He had recorded it already. It was a true one. Lonely related, if he had guessed right. There were a few things he would have liked to clarify. But the statement giver was most likely swept into the forsaken or dead. None of his animal friends (they weren't his minions, no matter how many times Tim teased him about it) had been able to find him, at least.

So that left phoning after hospitals, interviewing the family, maybe snooping around the Lukas estate. The last one he could safely ask his favourite murder of crows to do. Maybe Skipper, one of the more laid back squirrels. He'd also come to know a rather intelligent fox, but their friendship was new and Jon didn't want to ask anything dangerous of her.

Anyway spying could easily be delegated to his various companions. The other two tasks... not so much. He would need to speak to his assistants for that, ask them to do work for him. For the institution that had trapped them, killed one of their friends and was probably going to kill them at some point.

Jon... didn't want to ask any of them. He dreaded most interactions with his staff. Martin was the only one who wasn't intimidating (as long as Jon didn't overwork himself or came in injured or sick) and Jon selfishly wanted him to stay close. It felt safer this way. Jon had learned to rely on Martins knack for moderating arguements and calming tempers. He was nice and friendly and he smiled at Jon. No one smiled at Jon anymore.

Tim... Tim had grown less hostile over the weeks. He mostly came into Jons office to snatch up the Captain and sometimes he even stayed for a little chat. They were both awkward around each other and more often than not Jon would break and try to apologize again and Tim would snap at him to shut up and storm off. It was hard, not breaking the fragile thing that might turn out to be another chance at friendship between them.

Jon didn't want to harm the little seed of warmth with reminding Tim of their position. That Jon was his boss. That he had trapped him down here. And that they were still doing work for an evil fear god. He'd much rather have Tim lazing about, relaxed and playing with the Captain or the other animals that sometimes came to visit.

Melanie didn't threaten him with violence much anymore. But they tended to bump heads one way or another. Jon didn't like it when Melanie screamed at him. She wasn't much taller than him, but she always radiated such aggression. Jon didn't want to be in the same room as her when she eventually caved and gave into her urges.

Basira or Daisy probably would do as he said without much fuss. But... they were already doing most of the fieldwork and Daisy wasn't even working at the insitute-

"Archivist!~" A door that hadn't been there before slammed open behind him, several books that had been on the shelf it had materialized in, falling out at the impact.

Jon whirled around in response, twisted his weaker leg and only barely managed to catch himself on the tables edge. The chair did not have arms nor hands to hold onto something and thus fell sideways to the floor.

"Wha-"

The being that called itself Michael was over him already, close enough to make Jon taste red and smell the blare of sirens. It held its clawed hands mere inches away from his body in a horrifying parody of a cage, the pointed ends curling inwards and threatening to crash into his spine.

The ruckus should have been loud enough to alert _someone_ to what was going on. But when Jon strained his ears there was no noise from behind his office door. How late was it? Or had everyone just decided to leave early for the day? No, Martin wouldn't have done that. At least not without telling him.

Was it after work hours then? Or did Michaels existence somehow interfrere with the normal way sound travelled through space and time. Both explanations were equally likely.

Jon mentally shook his head. Or maybe physically too. It was so hard to keep track of anything with the Distortion so close. It was smiling down at him, spine bent in half to lean down, kaleidoscope eyes wide and crazed. It hadn't said anything beyond that first, threatening greeting. Just watching, probably drinking in Jons terror like fine wine. Or cheap ale? Cider? Did terror have flavour? Jon had never thought about it. The statements he consumed sometimes didn't feel like enough. But he hadn't exactly developed a taste for them-

Michael was still staring at him. Maybe he should say something? Polite. Jude and Mike always told him to be polite. Or rather they threatened to burn him or throw him off the nearest sky scraper if he didn't learn some fucking manners. As if they weren't the rudest, most murderous people Jon had ever tentatively befriended. If one could call their relationship that. He guessed being mean was the privilege of the more powerful ones. Ones like Michael, who would grow tired of his silence very fast and then make a kebab out of him if it felt merciful.

"Uhm... Is there something you needed?" There. That was polite, right?

Michaels grin grew, breaking away from it's face to tangle with its hair. "I do, in fact!"

"What... what would that be?"

There came a tsk from somewhere to his right, even though Michael hadn't moved at all. "Always asking so many questions, Archivist. No manners at all."

Jon did not pout at that. He was trying! It wasn't his fault avatars had such fucked up behavioral rules! Why didn't they just give him a guide book?! "How to speak to Avatars for the socially Inept". Or "Fear Speech for Dummies". "A Guide to the World of Fear Gods for the newly Becoming". Now that last one was a bit of a long title, but- Oh Michael was laughing that brain splitting laugh. He had started to rant, didn't he?

"That." Michael bubbled forth in between giggles. "That's a nice idea. Maybe take it up with the spider."

"Thanks?" There were more words, pushing against his teeth, making his tongue twist. He had that impossible urge to continue his rant, now that Michael had praised him for it, seemed amused by it even. It felt like a safe topic, only he knew he could talk someone dead if one let him. No one ever did, so he hadn't been able to varify that thesis- Damn it no his thoughts were running away from him again. Why was it so hard to keep them in line whenever Michael was close.

"Why the name thought _spiral_ doesn't come from nowhere, dear Archivist!~ And your thoughts naturally run in circles all on their own. I don't even have to do much of anything, really. It's kind of funny."

As if to accentuate its point Michael laughed. It echoed, not unlike Jons own static whenever he used compulsion on someone. Did every Avatar come with special voice effect powers?-

A sharp, very dangerous finger tapped his temple and made him focus on the being in front of him again.

"There you went again. Such an easily distracted mind. And with so many questions. Never the right ones, though." Michael tilted its head, leaning back a bit. "I think. As much as I'd love to watch you - heh - spiral, I really did come here to talk to you about something."

It stopped smiling. That... that wasn't good. Michael hadn't smiled when it had stabbed Jon. Which meant-

A small ball of fluffy fury shot over the desk and swiped at the hands holding Jon captive with a growl that was far too deep for such a compact body. Michael recoiled as though it had been burned, emitting an odd, angry hissing noise.

"This! This is what I'm talking about!"

Michael hadn't talked about anything much, Jon wanted to point out and bit his lip instead. Manners. He had some.

"The Captain?"

"Your- your _pests_."

Jon couldn't help his offended gasp, scooping up the growling Captain and cuddling him. "They are not _pests_!" He may have shrieked. Thank the gods no one was in the archives anymore.

"They are scratching up my doors!" Michael wailed back. "Or sit in front of them and meow until I open them and then leave. Sometimes the open them themselves and just _sit_ there! At the threshold! Not moving in or out! Do you know how creepy it is to wander around your own home and suddenly there's a glowing pair of eyes?!"

Jon nodded, a little empathetic. "It's scarier if you wake up to them staring you right in the face. But Michael I'm not sure I follow. That's just... normal cat behavior?"

This time the laugh Michael let out wasn't any less manic, but sounded suspiciously like it was going to cry soon.

"No it isn't!~"

Jon had the weird urge to pet it on the arm. Michael had slung its arms around its middle in a tight hug, on the verge of a breakdown. And sure maybe Michael was a murderer and had stabbed him before, but Jon didn't want it to become even more hysterical.

He clutched the Captain tighter, stopping the struggling cat from lunging at the bent form. "Wha- Why?"

"Because cats are smart!" Oh good the grin was back, although crooked. And Jon didn't like the way it eyed his sweetheart. "They don't fall for the doors. They know to avoid them."

"Oh." And then, because his confusion just kept growing. "What does that mean?"

"They are driving me crazy, Archivist."

Jon blinked at him.

"Crazier." Michael amended.

"Ah."

"Do something about it."

"I'm... I'm not sure... what? I'm sorry, but if you somehow managed to offend the local feline population that's hardly my fault. Cats and crows hold grudges. Parakeets, too. All birds really. Except for pigeons. Pigeons are stupid. Sweet, but stupid. Geese are really the worst of all. They don't plot like crows or ravens, but they make up for it with sheer aggression. And they have _teeth_."

" _Archivist!_ "

"Would you just call me Jon, already?! All my friends do."

"What?"

"What."

Michael tilted its head, the grin it sprouted this time less fragile, smaller. It had rightened itself again, a too long finger tapping its chin. Their combined confusion made Jons head spin.

"So you are saying if I become your friend the cats will stop with their assault?"

"I- uhm... maybe?"

"Hmmmm. I did want to make friends."

Jon frowned. It sounded earnest, yet wrong. Like there was an undercurrent of another emotion. It reminded him of Tim after the Not-Them. Joking and smiling like a powder keg.

"Alright?"

Michael nodded and turned to the door with a little wave. "Fabulous! See you around, Jooon~"

Jon slumped down a bit on the desk after the door vanished. He had a bad feeling about this. Distraught he looked down at the orange tabby in his arms.

"What have you gotten me into now?"

The Captain only puffed up and purred with pride.


	2. Chapter 2

Jon doesn't notice that anything is amiss as he is carefully cooking unseasoned meat in a pan. He only knows something is wrong when the Captain starts hissing. His cat never does that when they are alone, not even when Jons strokes get a little too frantic during times of distress, of which he had a lot since becoming the Archivist. Still denial holds him back from turning to look. He's curious, but also very, very tired.

" _I'm sorry that your food is taking so long, but you were the one insisting that everything I serve you should be lightly cooked._ "

_There's an intruder here, Jon!_

" _Oh._ " Jon clicked the stove off. Didn't want anything to burn. Something like terror was making his blood run cold and yet he couldn't help but be calm. " _Who is it?_ "

_The lanky man with the long claws._

"You are making such odd noises. I doubt even I would be able to replicate them." Michaels voice filled his little kitchen, replacing the air with sound. It proceeded to imitate Jon, the noises it made grating and missing several syllabels. It was like listening to a toddler trying to speak.

Jon grimaced. "That wasn't quite right."

"Ah, I thought so. Comprehension. Not my strong suit."

"Hm." Jon turned the stove back on. No need to let the Captain get cranky. "Is there anything you wanted?" No compulsion. Jon was very proud of himself. It was sad that no one appreciated his efforts.

"I've just come by for a visit. That's what friends do, Jon."

Michael came up behind him, looking over his shoulder and into the pan. Reality didn't like that. Neither did the meat that suddenly wasn't meat at all.

"Please don't mess with the Captains food. He gets mean if he's hungry."

_I do._

"You cook for your cat?"

"For whom else should I cook?"

Michael was giving him a look. He couldn't actually see it as he was trying not to burn or freeze the Captains dinner when the temperature fluctuated wildly and his fork kept turning into something else. But he could very much feel it. Literally. It was as though there was a disapproving shape at the back of his head.

"Do you want food?"

"Do you want to go into my hallways?"

"That's a no then."

Michael cackled right into his ear, making it bleed.

_Joooon. Where's my dinner? I'm starving. Should I bite this thing? Is it the reason you abandoned me in my time of need?_

" _No, no, darling. Hush. It's almost done. It just needs to cool down a bit._ "

_You have a reality bending being right next to you. Tell it to stop being useless._

"What's it saying, Arch- Jon?" Michael had twisted and dropped its chin on Jons head to stare at the Captain. The point of contact felt oddly normal, which only amplified the wrongness of it all.

" **He**... He wants you to cool his food for him."

Michael considers this. Or Jon thinks that it does, given that it is silent. The meat freezes over.

"There you go." It chirps.

"Nooooo."

_What happened? Jon. What did it do? Jon where is my food? It should be done by now._

Jon just put his head in his hands and continued to groan, hoping to outdo Michaels laughter and the Captains insistant meowing. This is what he gets for accidently "befriending" the personification of lies and deceit. And maybe for spoiling his cat a little too much.

~~~

"You should get a hobby." Michael says, not even bothering to say hello first.

Whether it had been there for hours or just arrived Jon didn't know. He had been switching between research and texting Jude and Mike. They were pretty helpful when they were in a good mood. Mike knew a lot about Leitners and how to outsmart other entities. And Jude, when she didn't wax poetics about her flame cult and the joys of burning everything to the ground, was pretty much a VIP in the Avatar world.

Mostly they just send cute animal pictures and cat videos back and forth, though. Jon had just hit send on a link to a pretty sweet youtube channel that had rows upon rows of videos about foxes, Mikes preferred animal, when Michael had announced its presence.

"Do you have one?"

Michael flopped down on the sofa next to him, holding out a finger with three extra joints towards the Captain, who was sleeping in his catbed under the coffee table.

"No, but I'm not the one working on a sunday."

"I'm not working." Jon said, awkwardly shuffling the stacks of statements back into their respective folders.

"Was that a lie, Jon?~"

"No." Jon lied, standing up and opening the window, where a woodpecker had insistently knocked against it. It chirped at him and then flew straight into the building to dive down on a spider. Jon smiled at the bird, a proud little thing.

Michael laughed when he got a small bowl of peanuts from a closet in the living room and placed it in front of his new guest.

Jon ignored him. " _Thank you_ "

" _Always happy to help! There's word of a dog who had an encounter with the Buried last week. Been dragged into a sewer, barely made it out alive. Want us to send him to you?_ "

" _If he wants to make a statement, yes. Martin will be happy to have a dog in the archives, too. So even if he just wants some cuddles you can send him my way._ "

" _Roger that. Thanks for the treat._ "

Jon closed the window after him and placed the bowl back into the closet. He felt Michaels gaze on him all the while. It warped the air around him, made fractals appear behind his eyes and drove colours into his mouth.

"What?"

"You have strange powers, Archivist."

"Jon. You don't hear me going around calling you Distortion now, do you?"

"It wouldn't be wrong."

"And you'd hate that."

He didn't say that Michael wasn't wrong either. Both had a certain grain of truth in it. Deception would be hard otherwise.

"Where do you come from Michael?" Jon asked before he could think better of it. He flinched when he noticed what he had done, trying to backtrack, going for the window (doors were dangerous when Michael was near), but the Distortion was there, in his space again and holding him captive with its sheer presence.

Its grin was wide and feral, fingers that curled around Jons whole form barely touching and still shredding Jons clothes.

"Did no one explain the birds and the bees to you?"

"I'm sorry." Jon blurted out torn between getting away from the sharp fingers and drawing closer towards Michaels chest. He wished the Captain would wake up and help him. "But that's also not what I meant and you know it."

"Hm." It didn't stop grinning. Jon hated that he had no good read on it. "How about you figure that out for yourself? You have time before the circus throws their party."

"Right." Jon sighed, whether because he was tired of always getting half baked answers whenever he didn't compell anyone, or because Michael had decided to give him some space again he didn't know.

When he tried to do just that and go back to his statements he found them missing and glared in the face of Michaels delighted laughter.

" _Michael_ those are the property of the Magnus Institute!"

"I'll be sure to return them."

But in what state? Jon dreaded to ask.

"Let's watch some television." Michaels voice cut through Jons internal groaning. And just a moment later the awakening sound of the TV that hadn't been turned on since his move here ripped through his flat.

Jon really didn't have much choice but to sit next to his "guest" and watch a truly horrid crime show with it. At least the Captain came to his aid somewhere in between episodes. Even if that aid came in the form of cuddles and purring. Purring that was playfully imitated by the being sat next to him. He may have dozed off to the sound of them.

Hours later the yellow door shut and disappeared from its place beside his bedroom door and Jon could finally go back to texting Mike. He had twenty-nine unread messages and a killer crick in his neck because of the weird position he had fallen asleep in.

"Are you kidding me? I am not going to read through all that."

Dialing Mikes number send a jolt of fear through him. He would have liked to attribute that to Mikes status as Avatar, but Jon knew he just really didn't like calling anyone.

"Oh you're still alive!"

"Hello Mike, yes, why wouldn't I be?"

"You know the answer to that question even without the Eye. What got you vanishing so suddenly? You just quit in the middle of a conversation."

"Sorry. I've been harassed by the Spiral a bit." The words were already out before he remembered whom he was talking to.

There was stony silence on the other end. Jon had another apology on the tip of his tongue when Mike spoke again. "You know there's a book for that."

The words shrivelled in his mouth as he let out a snorting laugh. "Miiike! Stop trying to recruit me for your weird space cult! I'm already stuck in one."

"Switch over. Mine comes with monetary benefits and less responsibility."

"I'm tempted. But I have to decline. Mine has better company."

"I'm wounded."

"Sorry, but no one can top Martin."

Jon could hear the smirk over the phone. "Ohhh~ You'll have to introduce me at some point."

Jon tried to imagine how that meeting would go. He'd kept his fragile almost friendship with the two Avatars quiet. There was no need to make the others distrust him more. Tim would probably go right back to hating him, Basira would be disgusted, but intrigued, she may have disliked his monster club, but she also knew potential when she saw one. Melanie? Jon could only imagine her going off in a rage and trying to stab someone. She prooobably wouldn't, but she was very well capable. Daisy... Jon was most scared of Daisy to be honest. She was a Hunter and Mike had been her prey once. She wouldn't play nice. She barely restrained herself from killing him on good days.

Now that he thought about it Martin would most likely take it the best. The man had a heart of gold.

"Maybe. Don't get your hopes up."

"But Jon, I do so love to see things come crashing down."

With a sigh Jon hang up on him. What was he doing befriending people with such a terrible sense of humor?

**Author's Note:**

> Will I ever stop writing Jon befriending everyone? No. This is how it should have been anyway if tma weren't a friggin tragedy.  
> They could have had so much fun :(
> 
> I have no real clue how to write Mike yet so sorry if he seems off character.


End file.
